


Nothing Can Be Done

by ArcadeSummers



Series: Somewhere Down That Road [1]
Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, M/M, Questionable Timeline, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadeSummers/pseuds/ArcadeSummers
Summary: Scott took the initiative in stoking a fire for them to ward off the chill of the night and prayed not to trace the same recursive loops he had been taking with Mike. Mike was a delicate thing, he knew; fragile like glass at the best of times and cut doubly sharp at the worst, much to Scott’s chagrin. Then again, maybe Mike always had been his weakness. This venture was proving to be one of those times and they’d been here before—when Mike was pleading for some semblance of security and ready to ravenously devour any crumb of affection Scott would pass his way. That’s just the way Mike was: surviving on scraps of love that he’d ration for days.





	Nothing Can Be Done

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea in mind ever since I first watched this film a few weeks ago and I just had to bring it to life in some form. The title is taken from the same song by Joni Mitchell, which I felt suits the tone of this piece quite well and helped to inspire it. I’m very, very glad to be writing for this (small!) fandom and I hope that it’s an enjoyable ride.

_Must I surrender_  
_With grace_  
_The things I loved when I was younger?_  
_Must I remember your face_  
_So well_  
_What do I do here with this hunger?_

 

The potent chill of the night air rose all around them in the vast expanse of dry land. The far away look in Scott’s eyes left no room for anything but sheer exhaustion from having driven for so long that day, and Mike’s energy was long past the point of recovery, too. It was once again time to set up camp.

They tread further inland from the road and view of skeptical law enforcement, both were content to take purchase on the most level ground the Earth could offer. Mike was no stranger to discomfort; no stranger to aching bones and tense nerves that proceeded sleep whether he welcomed it or not. The only thing separating Mike from the ease of waking was the loss of familiarity; something he never lacked in the presence of Scott. Scott’s arms always meant safety, which was more than he could have ever hoped for from well-meaning strangers or johns that had only hoped for him to make good on their investment. Before Scott, he never knew what safety felt like, and after, he only wished he could have spent less time in arms that were not.

Scott took the initiative in stoking a fire for them to ward off the chill of the night and prayed not to trace the same recursive loops he had been taking with Mike. Mike was a delicate thing, he knew; fragile like glass at the best of times and cut doubly sharp at the worst, much to Scott’s chagrin. Then again, maybe Mike always had been his weakness. This venture was proving to be one of those times and they’d been here before—when Mike was pleading for some semblance of security and ready to ravenously devour any crumb of affection Scott would pass his way. That’s just the way Mike was: surviving on scraps of love that he’d ration for days.

Mike sat a comfortable distance from Scott, knees drawn to his chest and his shoeless feet just a bit too close to the fire for Scott’s comfort, but he didn’t seem to care. There wasn’t much that could be taken from him that hadn’t been taken already.

“Why did you do it, Scott?” It was an open-ended question, left for Scott’s interpretation. It was a tactile question; almost daring him to expose the reason why he’d abandoned Mike so suddenly.

“You were alone and incapacitated on the side of the road, Mike. Of course I wasn’t going to just leave you there,” Scott responds in the most even tone he can muster in this state. He wasn’t ready to take the bait; not yet.

“That never stopped you before,” Mike responds, voice wavering but bolder than Scott can recall in any memory. Mike was never forged for toughness and was far too trusting for his own good. How had Scott gone so wrong as to change that?

All of a sudden Scott felt as though he were reliving another moment in time. A moment when Mike’s heart hadn’t turned bomb shelter; when nothing on Earth could’ve assuaged Mike’s doubts more than Scott’s love, and Scott had been too quick to mock him for it and relish in his disappointment. It was as though the denouncement of Mike’s love were a safeguard against a feeling Scott wasn’t then prepared to confront. Now it was only a question of _when._

Scott took a calculated breath, and two, and three before continuing, “You have every right to be angry with me, Mike. What I did wasn’t fair to you and—“  
The words scarcely leave his lips before Mike turns to face him with a graveness that leaves Scott breathless. Then all at once, it melts into pained laughter.

“Come on, man, you and I both know I don’t have the energy for that. I’m not angry, but — dammit,” he turns from Scott’s view and scrabbles at his eyes before avoiding his face entirely. Suddenly the blades of grass at his feet are oh-so-very intriguing; anything to avoid Scott’s eyes.

“But.. I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t hurt. Scott, you—“ his voice wavers

“Mike — _hey,_ ” Scott reaches for Mike’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to ground him, but Mike wasn’t having it. He wasn’t going to allow Scott to distract him from the storm brewing inside of him. At this rate, he’d surely drown.

“No, Scott, for once I’m — I’m going to say something and you’re going to hear me out, yeah? You just.. you couldn’t be bothered with me anymore, could you? Couldn’t — couldn’t stand chasing ghosts; couldn’t stand Mikey crying for his _mommy,_ could you?” Mike’s eyes are piercing now even through his tears and face twisted in all the pain that Scott inflicted and all the wounds too deep to heal. Where would he even begin?

Scott felt crushed beneath the weight of his gaze like he had no other. Just as he went to reach for Mike again, Mike rose to his feet and nearly stumbled forward into the fire in his haste. Scott rose to follow before Mike put a considerable distance between the two of them despite his nervous stupor; willing himself to remain conscious to deliver whatever exhaustive blows he could muster.

“You meet this — girl and all of your dreams come true for you and forget that some of us aren’t so damn lucky, y’know?” His breath hitches, “And then you return to your real life with your money and a wife and everything you’ve ever wanted and just.. and just file me away with everything else marked ‘too painful to deal with!’” Mike chokes on a sob that rattles his teeth before turning his back to Scott and raking a nervous hand along his arm in an attempt to steady himself.

Scott grinds his teeth and bites his lip, calculating his next move. Would it be as tactful as talking him down with his silver tongue? Not at all. Would it be as painful as a lit match atop gasoline? Most likely. Then he remembers that human beings were not made for calculating odds and he does what every cell in his body tells him to do, instead.

Scott reaches for Mike’s shoulder and spins him around to face him despite Mike’s protests, with a fierce grip around his back that anchors him in place.

“Let me go, Scott! Dammit, man, leave — off!”  
“Mike, _Mikey,_ hey — it’s gonna be all right, Mike—“  
“I said _no!_ ”  
A shove  
“Mike!”  
Scott holds Mike’s head to his shoulder with the other arm still pressed firmly against his back as Mike struggles. Then, gradually, the struggle melts with Mike’s cries and shallow, heaving breaths into Scott’s neck; arms loose and slack around Scott’s own. Mike begins losing balance under the weight of shocked nerves and pain of his own undoing, as Scott slowly lowers them both to the ground, bending at the knees for support of his friend.

Before then, whenever Scott considered his greatest trespasses and misgivings, he thought of his shamed father or the death of Bob; never his closest and most defenseless friend.  
What a ruin he’s made this time.

“Shh, Mike, I know — I know I messed up, Mike, and this isn’t enough and nothing I do will ever just be enough, but — hey, just.. just let me, okay?”  
Mike breathed in sharply and sat rigidly in Scott’s embrace. Before now, Mike had never known a moment when he hadn’t craved Scott’s touch or fantasized about his warmth. Scott had always held him at arms-length. He’d coo over him at the right moments and they’d put on acts for the sake of business, but that’s all; though, in those moments if Mike tried hard enough to believe, Scott’s love could almost seem palpable enough to be real.

“Let you do what, Scott? Where do you go when you’ve reached the top, huh?”

Mike’s eyes were open, but he stared at nothing. He almost feared what would happen next, but then a hand found his hair and he winced. Scott’s hands were tentative but methodical as they weaved through the tangled strands that had grown longer in his absence. His other arm moved to reposition Mike so that his head rested more securely against his shoulder and bracketed his body between his own legs.

Mike breathed in labored breaths and willed his body to relax under Scott’s ministrations, confidence and hard-won anger be damned. Mike wasn’t made for this; wasn’t made for biting words and sharp teeth and beating fists. He wasn’t made for vitriol toward the people he loved even if that person were a thankless fool like Scott Favor.

Scott grew bolder in the ensuing silence and leaned down to press his lips to Mike’s pulse, eliciting a faint gasp from Mike against his ear.

“Hey, Mike,”  
“Yeah?”  
“Gettin’ sleepy yet?”  
“Nah... nah, I think I’m wide awake, Scotty”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah...”

The fire crackled around them and warmed them both in its glow. It illuminated Mike in a way that daylight simply couldn’t and highlighted his features, equal parts beautiful and painfully distressed. It was clear that Mike hadn’t eaten well in a long while; his thin frame hardly disguised beneath his thick jacket. Scott lifted the hem of Mike’s coat and slipped his hand beneath to run along each distinguished knob of his spine, over and over. Sparks danced in the faint breeze and fell slowly, like tears, all around them.

Mike hummed and the sound would’ve surprised Scott if he hadn’t known that Mike was still awake.

“Hey, Scott?”  
“Yeah, Mikey?”  
A beat  
“Are we gonna be okay? Is... is everything gonna be okay now?”

Scott knows what he wants; Mike wants him to chase away his pain with his sugar-sweet words and promises of a forever that may never come. Mike wants him to spare him a few crumbs; just a few, if only to make it through this night. Fear settles like iron in the marrow of his bones and he trembles with it. Scott thinks again of the fire and how it illuminates the thinness of Mike’s face, and his own blanches against it.

The reassurance that Mike needs crawls from Scott’s throat and scorches it in its wake.

“Yeah, Mike. We’re okay... everything’s gonna be all right, you know? You and me. You... and me, we’re—“ the words die on Scott’s lips when he feels the ghost of a smile against the junction between his neck and shoulder. A silent plea for his words to go unspoken because Mike knows somewhere in his heart of hearts that Scott was choking to death on them. He nods, closes his eyes, and finally allows sleep to consume him.

Scott holds Mike securely in his grasp and pinches his eyes shut, leaning down to press one last lingering kiss to his neck. Only then does he allow himself the luxury of tears to escape his eyes. He forfeited his right to anguish when he left his heart in Rome, he decided.

The seconds near eternity; each tear slower than the last, and Scott, too, succumbs to sleep. He dreams of a life where there are no roads and a plane of existence that keeps him tethered to every soul he’d forsaken in his quest for self-gratification

Mike dreams of a road that only ever leads back to Scott.


End file.
